“What is it, Youriko? What is it, girl?” He hugged her to his knees and kissed the top of her head many, many times until she stopped crying and shaking. He slipped to the floor covering her legs with his, enveloping her body in his large frame. “What is it, Youriko, my dear? Please tell me”.
She didn’t come out of his protective cocoon, but held him tight and between genuine sobs, told him the story of her life in a hushed voice directly into his ear. She told him the truth about her life in Alma Ata and her mother; about school, university and Yui; she related her experiences in the Japanese foreign office and her move to Bonn and she told him about the loneliness of her job and her attempted escape to California. She wasn’t doing this for sympathy, she was unburdening a story that she
